Water and electricity don't mix!
by SingSweetApril
Summary: When Francis agrees to babysit Alfred, Alfred gets a little too interested in Francis' pet. Contains spanking!


Hi everyone! Been a while since I posted, huh? Hope you like this story- Alfred is about six, by the way. I don't own Hetalia!

* * *

"Now Alfred, be a good boy for Francis, okay? Or there'll be trouble."

"Okay..." Alfred said, rolling his aqua blue eyes.

Arthur sighed and gave Alfred a stern look. As much as he hated to ask Francis for anything, he was immensely relieved that he had found a sitter for him at such short notice. He simply had to go into work today, and Alfred's school had announced, rather last minute, that school would not be in session that Friday. Though Arthur had been disgruntled, Alfred was thrilled to not have to be shut up in a classroom for an extra day, to the point where he hadn't even put up much of a fuss over the fact Arthur couldn't spend the day with him, this time.

Arthur let go of Alfred's hand and ushered him inside, and Alfred began to remove his shoes, as he had been taught. Arthur then turned to Francis.

"I should be back to pick him up this evening, depending on the traffic. I'll see you then, Francis."

"Oui, and don't worry, I'll make sure ze little one is fed," nodded Francis. Though he would have liked to be smug over Arthur actually entrusting Alfred to him, he knew that Arthur would have taken Matthew without a moment's thought, so this wasn't the time for it. "We'll have a nice time, won't we, Alfred?"

"Yeah!" Alfred cheered.

Arthur rolled his eyes, amused.

"I'd better head off before I end up running late. Goodbye for now."

Arthur nodded once, and left, the shutting of the door behind him felt rather final. Once he had vanished down the garden path, Alfred immediately headed into Francis' living room, which was far more elaborately decorated than Arthur's place, to the point of looking quite feminine. Alfred wrinkled his nose at the flouncy curtains and the dainty pillows on the sofa. Still, he perked up when he noticed that there was a widescreen TV near the fireplace and moved over to it. As he climbed up onto the sofa, a fish tank bobbed into view, a large, colorful fish going around and around in circles.

"Ooh!" said Alfred, fascinated.

He stood up on the arm of the sofa, leaning as far forward as he could, peering into the tank, which was lit from below by a soft, turquoise light.

"Hi, fish!" Alfred said, grinning.

He reached an arm forwards, dipping it into the tank, his fat little fingers trying to trap it, but the fish darted away, avoiding his clumsy hands with ease. Alfred frowned, his tongue between his teeth...

"C'mere…ngh…stupid…fishy!" he grunted.

"All right, Alfred, I made a sandwich for you, I know you-" Francis called as he walked into the living room with a plate, nearly dropping it when he saw what the blue-eyed boy was doing. "Mon dieu!" Alfred Jones, get down at once!"

"Aww, Francis!" Alfred pouting, slowly pulling his hand from the bowl and easing himself off the sofa, the sleeve of his sweater slightly damp.

"Don't 'aww, Francis' me! And what were you doing with Pierre?" Francis asked, sternly.

"I wanted to pet the fish!"

"Alfred, fish need to live in the water, they do not like to be petted like a dog. He is 'appy where 'e is, leave him be."

"Fine," he huffed, pouting and shooting another glance at Pierre. Francis folded his arms.

"Now, sit down and eat your lunch. And stay away from the fish tank, understand?"

Alfred nodded and sank onto the sofa cushions and Francis used the remote to flick through the TV's channels until it landed on cartoons. Alfred quickly spotted a show that he liked and after a few minutes, began mindlessly chewing on his sandwich, his blue eyes gaining a glazed expression underneath the TV's hypnotic influence. Satisfied that he was occupied, Francis nodded to himself.

It was only later that the trouble began.

* * *

Alfred was bored.

The cartoon he'd been watching was over, and now another show had come on that was nowhere near as interesting. He had a little bag of stuff Arthur had told him to pack to entertain himself, but he didn't feel like playing with his car toys or drawing. Alfred pouted, slouching against the cushions. Why did Francis' house have to be so boring?

His eyes wandered up to the fireplace. Francis was in the kitchen, preparing dinner- he'd been in there a while, thinking that Alfred was still entertained.

Alfred grinned to himself and rolled up his sleeve, wiggling his fingers.

He stood on the couch and carefully padded across it in his socks, standing on the arm and pushing himself onto his tiptoes. Pierre was still there, hovering near a little plastic castle.

Now was his chance!

Alfred's hand stretched, his fingers just tickling the surface out of the water, sloshing a little of it onto the arm of the couch. He stuck his tongue out in concentration, knowing that he was within seconds of achieving his goal...Pierre was just within reach…

It all happened very suddenly- Alfred's feet began to slide on the wet surface and, on instinct, he grabbed the first thing in reach- Pierre's bowl. As Alfred fell back onto the sofa, the fishbowl sailed through the air and smashed on the carpet, water creating a huge puddle beneath Pierre, who began to gasp. Some of the water splashed onto the TV, as well, drenching it, and the screen started to flicker. Alfred gasped, his eyes going huge.

"Oops…"

Francis, who had been happily adding sauce to the meal, heard the noise and ran into the living room, hoping that Alfred wasn't hurt, his heart already racing, and all kinds of images flashing through his mind.

When he got there, he noticed several thinks at once.

Fish bowl, smashed. TV, probably ruined, sparking ominously. And Alfred standing there with this shocked expression on his face, like he couldn't even have predicted everything going so wrong. One sleeve was still rolled up, his wet up to the elbow. Pierre flopped pathetically on the ground.

Needless to say, Francis was none too happy.

"ALFRED JONES!"

Alfred winced.

"You are in big trouble!" Francis said, striding into the room.

Alfred flinched, but Francis walked right past him and carefully picked up Pierre, cupping the flopping creature in his hand and dashing off into the kitchen. Alfred heard the tap running and peeked around the doorway, watching as Francis plopped the fish into a big, glass vase. Pierre took a moment to adjust to his new surroundings, and then began to swim again. Alfred breathed a sigh of relief- but it didn't last long.

"Now," he heard Francis say, then a rattling.

The next thing Alfred knew, Francis had returned, putting something in his pocket that Alfred couldn't see, and then the little boy was suddenly staring down at the beige carpet, then horror dawned on him- this position was all too familiar…

"Wha-?! No! No, no, don't!" he began shrieking, knowing what was coming and immediately trying to squirm free.

Francis, who had sat down on a chair with Alfred bent over his knee, shook his head.

"Oh no, you don't! I told you to leave it alone, and did you listen? Non! This is what 'appens to naughty children who don't listen! You could 'ave really 'urt yourself, not just my fish!"

And with that, Francis lifted a hand and sent it smacking down on Alfred's backside. The little American yelped, even though the cushioning of his jeans prevented it from stinging too much, but it was a surprise that Francis was actually spanking him- as far as Alfred knew, he'd never heard Matthew mention being spanked, but maybe the Canadian boy was just not one to advertise it?

Though Alfred was used to getting spanked by Arthur (and, occasionally, an uncle or aunt that was babysitting him), he'd still never gotten the hang of how to cope with them with dignity. He still held onto a belief that if he cried and made enough of a racket, he might end his punishment quicker. He could already feel tears welling in his eyes, even if it didn't hurt that much. Francis' firm hand smacked down on his sit spot, jolting him forwards, the blows settling into a smooth rhythm of smack-smack-smack-smack. Alfred tried to grab at the chair leg to pull himself free, since his legs were too short to touch the floor.

"Stop that, Alfred!" Francis scolded, shaking his head.

Deciding that the American boy wasn't getting the message, he promptly pulled down Alfred's jeans to reveal a pair of Superman trunks. Normally he'd find this amusing, but he was too upset about Pierre and the possibility of having to replace his TV to laugh. Instead, he continued the spanking, making sure to smack the back of his thighs, as well. By now, Alfred's skin was going from its normal peach tone to a rosy pink, but he was still squirming around.

"Ow, stop it, Francis! Owww!" Alfred squawked, kicking his chubby legs.

"You do not decide when ze punishment is over, Alfred Jones!" Francis replied, giving him a particularly hard smack. "I won't stop until you're sorry."

"I am! I aaaammm!"

Now Alfred was feeling very sorry that he'd gone anywhere near that stupid fishbowl- bent over Francis' knee, his Superman pants around his knees and the growing stinging of his bottom made for a very miserable experience, though he was sorrier that he'd underestimated Francis than anything.

"Owwww!" Alfred wailed, kicking his legs and trying to wriggle away from the stinging swats, but with the way he was positioned and Francis resting a hand on his back, there was nowhere for him to go. "Stop!"

Francis sighed- Alfred was certainly a stubborn brat. Hooking his fingers around the waistband of Alfred's trunks, he yanked those down as well, revealing Alfred's pudgy, pink derriere. Alfred whined with embarrassment at having his bare bottom exposed- he hated it when Arthur did it, much less Francis. The sound of smacks was now much sharper than it had been before, his little, plump bottom bouncing with each smack, the skin growing redder and redder. His bottom felt like it was on fire, the stinging left over from the smacks merging into one huge painful pulse.

"Francis, no more, pleeease! I'm sorry –hic- I'm really sorry! Waaah!"

Alfred's face was bright red by now, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks as he sobbed; now lying limply over Francis' lap, scarlet backside in the air, unable to fight anymore. Now that he had calmed down and stopped trying to evade his well-deserved punishment, Francis began to ease up on the little boy, slowing down on the slaps and finally, winding down and giving the now cherry-red backside two more hard smacks, one on each cheek.

"I know you are, and we are finished now."

Finally, Francis was done. He picked Alfred up, hugging him as he walked across the room, sitting him on a wooden chair that he turned to face the wall. Alfred hiccupped softly.

"Now zen, you are to go sit in ze naughty corner and don't move until I say. If you're a good boy from now on, then maybe I won't tell Arthur about you nearly killing Pierre!"

Alfred sniveled but nodded his head, not daring to argue. His bottom felt like it had been electrocuted or something, so he kept shifting about on the chair, switching from buttock to buttock in an attempt to ease the pressure somewhat. He honestly hadn't meant to endanger the fish- he didn't want to kill it; he just wanted to touch it. Arthur wouldn't let him have a pet because he said he was 'too young' for it, so Alfred was fascinated with animals, especially ones he couldn't have. However, as he sat there with a very sore backside, he reflected that maybe Arthur had been right all along.

Meanwhile, Francis swept up the pebbles and pieces of broken glass off the carpet, tutting to himself. At least Pierre was alright, and he could tell by Alfred's shocked face that he hadn't meant any harm- but he also knew if he didn't correct him, he'd only do it again and possibly actually hurt an animal, next time. The carpet would just have to dry on its own, he supposed.

A delicious smell was coming from the kitchen, and Francis knew that Alfred would probably be starving by now.

"Alfred? Corner time is up! Come and have dinner!"

Alfred, happy to be able to stand, wiped his runny nose on his sleeve, rubbed his bottom for a moment before pulling up his trunks and jeans and wandered into the kitchen, where his mouth began to water. Biting his lip, he sat across the table from Francis, and began to eat, slowly at first, but then he began to shovel food into his mouth- plus, it distracted him from his still-throbbing bottom.

"Slow down, Alfred," Francis chuckled, taking a sip of wine. "I don't want you to choke."

"Sowwy…" Alfred muttered, lowering his eyes and swallowing.

"It's all right, I am not angry anymore. You're sorry now and you'll listen to me next time, won't you?"

"Yeah," Alfred nodded.

"Good boy," Francis smiled.

"Um, Francis?"

"Yes?"

"Are…" Alfred gulped. "Are you gonna tell Arthur?"

Alfred and Francis both knew if Francis told, then Alfred would certainly end up over Arthur's knee later on, as well, and Alfred was sure he'd never sit down again if that happened. Francis tilted his head.

"No, I won't tell Arthur, even though I really should. I zink you've learnt your lesson today."

"Thanks, Francis!" Alfred cheered.

The rest of the meal continued pleasantly, with Alfred eating until he was full to bursting, happy to know that he was forgiven and that, this time at least, Francis would keep their secret.


End file.
